Memory
by at-kb
Summary: Slight AU. Nobody knew how old she was, except that she was really, really old. Older than the Captain-Commander. And whatever she knew about that war that happened hundreds of years ago, she wasn't telling. -Spoilers for most recent manga chapters!-


The old bitch was tough, that was for sure.

Nobody knew how old she was, except that she was _damn old_. Like, older than the Captain-Commander. People said that she had been offered the position before him, but had turned it down, saying the tenth division was where she belonged.

Nobody could remember the tenth division ever having another captain, either. Captains came and went, and yet there was the tenth division captain still standing there, immovable, just getting more scarred and laughing at the youn 'uns and drinking everyone else under the table. Maybe all the sake had just pickled her, or something. It seemed to have about as much of an effect on her as water did.

But, honestly, the idea of facing her in a fight was absolutely terrifying, because that woman _did not give up_. She'd had limbs hacked off and put back on by the twelfth division, and she was quite fond of slipping the collar of her kosode down and showing people all the ancient stab wounds through her shoulders, but after all that: she was still alive. You might get fooled and think she was just a cheerful, absent-minded old lady, but once she got cornered in a fight she was like one of those stringy cats that would lurk behind trash heaps in Rukongai and claw your face off if you came too close . . . that is, if the cat had enough spiritual pressure to send most vice-captains to their knees.

"Hurry up, all of you!" she bellowed from the courtyard in the middle of the tenth division barracks. "Put down your pens and pull up your underpants, we've got a show to go to and I don't wanna be late!"

In fact, there was more than enough time to spare, but the whole division was so curious about the afternoon's event that they assembled without too much complaint. What was more surprising, though, was that the old battleaxe was wearing her hair down: a whole cascade of silver hair, and underneath she had a pink scarf wrapped around her shoulders.

"You dressed up, Captain?" remarked her vice-captain as the division ambled along en masse. She had never been one of those captains who insisted on keeping a formal distance from her subordinates—at least, not as long as he'd known her.

"Hey, I used to be quite the bombshell, I'll have you know," she said, raising a finger. "The boys used to love it when I let my hair down—and that's no lie, trust me, Taro-kun."

"So, Captain," said Taro carefully, because she'd been known to clam up on the subject, "I've been wondering . . . were you there when _it_ happened? The Winter War, I mean."

She laughed. "You guys have just been dying to know that, haven't you? I guess I'll have to reveal my age and admit it. But it was so long ago . . . well, I'm afraid my old brain just doesn't recall it so well." She sighed melodramatically.

Taro was certain this _was_ a lie. "Were you captain back then too?" he tried.

Her eyebrows raised. "Me? No, I was vice-captain, just like you are now."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. My captain was someone named Hitsugaya Toushiro. I don't suppose you kids know who that is." She sounded uncharacteristically wistful.

The name was familiar; Taro concentrated. "Isn't that—wait, Hitsugaya Toushiro was the captain-commander before Shiba-soutaichou, wasn't he?"

"You got it!" She poked him in the ribs. "So they do teach you a thing or two at that academy. Sometimes I wonder."

"So were you—"

"Ah, it was so long ago, Taro-kun." She waved her hand. "Better to let it all blow over by now, I think. Everybody who got hurt by it is dead now, anyway. Except for me." She grinned.

Taro thought she didn't realize what exactly she'd let slip. She got hurt by it? How, he wondered?

But it was too late to ask, because they had reached the gate in the mountain, and the masked second division members were dissolving the complicated kido over the stone.

Captain Shihouin of the second division unrolled a piece of paper and began to shout out a list of crimes.

"You think she'd learn to speak up a little, huh?" the tenth division captain whispered to her vice-captain.

Taro could hear it well enough, though, and he was sure his captain could too: it was just a lot of counts of things like treachery and conspiracy and treason, interspersed with a few odd smaller things like unlicensed opening of a senkaimon. Really, it seemed like a stupid tradition to make the entire Gotei 13 gather for such a boring ceremony.

Now the gates were opening, and there was a figure stumbling out. Just about everyone surged forward, trying to get a glimpse of this famous prisoner, but all it seemed to be was some weary old silver-haired man so skinny he looked like he'd been dried out for jerky. Hardly worth all the excitement.

Still, they were all watching him, wondering what he would do, when suddenly the prisoner turned his head toward the crowd of the tenth division. "Rangiku?" he said.

Taro was surprised to see his captain step forward. "Gin," she said.

And then she was running, running across the rocky earth toward the prisoner, and his arms were wrapping around her and—

They were kissing. In front of the entire Gotei 13. Taro didn't know if he should avert his eyes or not.

"Holy shit," said a voice from the eleventh division throng.

"All right, well, ceremony's over!" Taro said in his best vice-captain voice, turning to the rest of his division. He clapped his hands. "Everyone back to work!"

"That's just gross," said his fifth seat, who was still staring in horrified fascination.

"She'll kick your ass if she hears you say that," said Taro. "Go on, everyone start walking back!"

He chanced a last look back. His captain and the prisoner were still holding on to one another; what they were saying to one another was too quiet to hear, but there were definitely tears on his captain's face.

Taro figured he probably shouldn't expect her back before the end of the day. Or possibly week . . . or month.

But, seriously, when she got back she was going to have to spill the beans on this one, no "oh, it's too long ago to remember" excuses. He'd always known she actually had an excellent memory.

* * *

**Author's note:** Oh bother, I wrote another Gin/Ran one-shot. It's okay, I'm still working on my long fic too. Review plz?


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